Commonplace Books

I call my notebooks commonplace books, because the late Karl Edward Wagner used that term. The college notebook doesn't really count, I just happened to have scanned photos. After thirty years, I still don't know why I never finished the sketch of my English prof, James Stronks. These photos go back a good ten years.

Three Hourmen

Rex "Tick-Tock" Tyler invented the Miraclo pill, while working at Bannerman Chemicals, and found that taking one gave him super strength for exactly one hour. I would equate that with my taking a pain pill and feeling relatively fine for an hour or so. The 1940s comics were great, there would be a page of him fighting and in the corner would be a little countdown clock panel. 56:22. 41:00. etc.

Watching and Waiting

He thinks I don't know this is a remote-controlled spy robot used by Donald Rumsfeld. He's wrong.

The Crawlspace, You've Been Living Hell To Me (sung to the tune of "San Quentin")

A devilish place this is, running beneath the living room and the stairs that lead to the kitchen. I have dents in my head from hitting the I-beam that now has a towel wrapped around it. There are pipes that are low, but then angle down so far that to get to where I usually end up--trouble with the sump pump--I'm crawling along concrete on my stomach. I've been down there several times the past few days, and thought I'd take photos of the pipes and my head, for perspective. And to prove my point (and my stupidity), the photo of the dent in my head from the I-beam, still there after about sixteen months.

The Car With the Michigan Plates

Leaving the gym a few weeks back, I noticed the trash in this car, then I looked in the front window and saw the on God, I walked around back and saw the Michigan plates and how crooked the guy had parked. (I'll admit, I really, really wanted to see what was in the trunk.) I saw an Oak Lawn squad car and told the cop about it. The car was gone the next day.

3909 West 85th Street, Chicago

Last week I had the time to wander around my old neighborhood at 85th & Springfield. It was--as always--an odd experience. I took photos of both ends of the alley, a novelty now since Burbank has no alleys. There's the house. There's the weirdo tree with the 600 foot long branch. The house on Springfield has some infamy to it, back in 1975 a guy named Lourges was shot dead in his driveway as an Outfit hit. Then there's some shots of the odd little intersection of 85th Place (which had a total of about ten houses on it), Springfield, and Columbus (or, as it is commonly known, Southwest Highway). Walking back towards Pulaski (and then to 87th and my bus), I took the photos I came for, some nice ghost signs for Rosario's and a transmission place.